


potatoes, alliums, and poppies

by bluesandbirds



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dream Smp, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Violence, Platonic Relationships, it's tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesandbirds/pseuds/bluesandbirds
Summary: or: dealing with grief by people who don't know how to deal with griefsnippets i wrote about tommy's death
Relationships: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone
Comments: 17
Kudos: 209
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	potatoes, alliums, and poppies

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote these all on my tumblr (@/businessbois) and transported it over here cuz i thought you guys might like them
> 
> ALSO i want it on the record that i wrote and posted the ranboo part BEFORE his stream so im really just a prophet /hj
> 
> the first bits a little gross i think around tommy's death so you can just skip that

Raw potatoes are hard.

They’re a pain to bite into and unpleasantly starchy to chew. They taste fine, but mostly like dirt.

It’s not like Tommy has much room to complain though, potatoes keep him alive down here in the dark, foresaken depths of Pogtopia. They’re the only food that he can stomach and one Technoblade provides in abundance, so he swallows the bitterness and goes in for another bite.

Tommy knew this before, but now he’s got proof in the purples and blues of his skin. Potatoes bruise easily, Tommy learned this long ago after another angry rant from the Blade, but after months of malnutrition and barely hanging on, so does he.

Dream drives a spud against Tommy’s skull until he’s got a fistful of mash and blood and keeps on punching even after that.

Tommy dies screaming with dirt and copper on his tongue.

* * *

Eret’s never known what to expect from TommyInnit.

It was his gravest error in the war for independence. He was so sure that L’Manburg would lose. He didn’t account for the stubborn right-hand man with nothing more than a dirt shack and two music discs to lose. TommyInnit defied all of Eret’s expectations during the Revolution and continued to do so for every day after that. 

_“You’ve always been the real king, Eret, not Dream.”_

A sentiment he didn’t expect from the boy who hated him so viciously. The boy who he took two lives and a childhood from. (Sure, Eret never landed the killing blow, but it was he who marched the L’Manburgians into that Final Control Room. It was his betrayal that led to Tommy needing to call for that duel.)

But inexplicably, Eret is forgiven by the boy who only ever seemed to speak in learned violence. He takes this with pride, crown finally feeling like something more than a stage prop.

Eret’s never known what to expect from TommyInnit.

_Tommyinnit was slain by Dream._

Least of all this.

* * *

Look, Tubbo’s buried TommyInnit before. 

Well, metaphorically. There wasn’t a body the first time. ~~(He didn't stick around to see one this time, but Sam had blood on his hands, blood on his armor. Rusty red smeared over enchanted netherite.)~~

But Tubbo’s done this before. He’s done his time in anger, in bargaining, in depression. He spent all that time grieving Tommy and Tommy wasn't even dead.

So now, Tubbo thinks he’ll just wait. Because Tommy was fine last time. Because Tommy’s always fine. Because he’s Tommy.

And if not...

Well, then he already knows how to plan the funeral.

* * *

Sapnap’s never dealt well with grief. He’s always been pretty into the whole “denial” thing, not even letting himself see the truth about Dream until Tommyinnit’s broken eyes were staring up at him, begging him to help.

The boy's words to him echo, dredging up everything Sapnap tries so hard to ignore.

_“Because it started with me and you...”_

The long purveying myth of the land is that “Tommy brings all conflict,” “Every bad thing leads back to Tommy.” Sapnap knows best of all that that isn’t true.

Sapnap started the Disc War. Sapnap forced Tommy into the conflict. Sapnap brought up the idea of taking on Dream.

And now Tommy’s dead. By Dream’s hands. By Sapnap’s be— _ex_ -best friend’s hands.

He feels sick.

* * *

_Tommy abandoned him._ That’s what Jack knows.

It’s the truth that keeps him going. The mantra in his mind as he claws his way back to life. The whisper in his ears as he slides in a nuclear keycard. The promise in his heart as he lies to a robot’s face. Jack was Tommy’s friend and Tommy left him to rot.

Tommy’s dead now. Tommy’s abandoned him once again. Tommy’s stolen everything from him once again. Not by choice, Jack supposes, but he did it. He still left him. 

Though, not by choice.

He still left.

But not by choice.

Huh.

Tommy abandoned him.

Except...

Except he didn't, did he?

Tommy didn't abandon him. Because Tommy didn't make that choice. Tommy didn't abandon him. Tommy didn't make any choices. Tommy didn't abandon him.

Tommy was taken from him.

Forcefully. Abruptly. Without warning or reprieve. By Jschlatt and his treacherous ambitions. By Wilbur Soot and his grand plans. But Jschlatt and Wilbur died and Jack still didn't have his friend back before he was gone again. Taken by Tubbo and his misguided decisions, then by Dream and his poisonous touch. And Jack never once got him back.

Jack’s been left behind again. He’s alone again. And the one person he blamed is cold in the ground.

(And he’ll never get him back.)

* * *

The first time they met, Ranboo tried to hand Tommy a flower and ended up punching him in the face.

It was the kind of unfortunate accident that could only happen to Ranboo—Tommy choosing to turn his head at the exact moment that Ranboo reached out, his knuckles grazing Tommy’s cheek as purple petals brushed against his nose. Tommy went off in a characteristic whirlwind of expletives and accusations, getting up in Ranboo’s face as the Enderboy tried to back away.

In panic and embarrassment, Ranboo tossed his flower at Tommy’s feet, a desperate gesture of peace. The other boy went silent, leaning down to pick it up and inspect it with a critical eye. He huffed and made a snide comment, but tucked the flower into his inventory. (Even later, in that burning house with pockets full of loot, he kept the crumpled little allium.)

Now, Ranboo plants flowers outside his house.

Red and white to go with the boy’s signature color scheme. (Red and white like the house that ruined it all.)

It looks nice.

He think that Tommy might not have hated it.

(Somewhere, buried below blackstone bricks in a dead boy’s home, wilted purple petals line the bottom of a long-forgotten chest.)

* * *

She gets the news from Callahan.

Alyssa would have liked to say it was hard to believe, but an event like this is the reason she left in the first place. Callahan still travels back to check on their old friends, but it was Alyssa’s choice to completely distance herself from the server. 

It was hard to watch, when the people she loved were drawing lines in the dirt and leaping at each other’s throats. She’d blame that Wilbur man if not for the fact she knew that her boys had it in them all along. Hunters, the lot of them. (And it’s not like she’s never heard the call of fire, of war before. That’s why she _ran_.)

She and Tommy weren’t close. They only got along in rare moments, but those were always punctuated by the awkwardness he kept as a wall up between them. Always awkward or angry, never candid, never calm. But Alyssa was willing to put up with him, to be kind to the boy who tried so hard to speak in learned violence. She had enough patience for the both of them.

She gave him a poppy once, because she had seen how his eyes softened ever so slightly as they looked out at the clusters of dandelions scattered along the hills. (She saw him later, hands stained yellow and black, a new wall proudly dividing them from the greater Dream SMP.)

The forest fire was something they would have done in the early days, when it was just fun and games, no hard feelings, no stakes. In their new world, it became an act of war. That’s when Alyssa knew it was over. That the ball was in motion and going too fast to stop, so it was either get out or get lost in the crossfire.

Never more has she hated being right.

There’s a field of poppies by her new house.

Alyssa picks one for him.

**Author's Note:**

> the first thing i wrote in this fandom was a "tommy is dead" fic, we're really come full circle gamers
> 
> anyways follow my tumblr if you want i'm kinda pretty active there, i am trying to get something out here very sorry and uh thank you for reading!


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